|Ardnassac zeab elbmurc|
|Habitat||Anywhere something has ever happened|
|Description||A cursed, abandoned visionary, driven mad by fate and fortune|
The Hindsight Seer (Ardnassac zeab elbmurc) was once a beautiful, talented heroine, a visionary prophet adored by all she met. Well, almost everyone. This is a tale of divine jealousy and the fickle hearts of immortals. A tale of curses, betrayal, and degradation; a tale of wisdom and foolishness, abandonement and survival; a tale of redemption through corruption. The tale of the first Hindsight Seer.
A tale recorded in the ancient archives of the Malicious Monks of Smee Hee, a shadowy monastic order hidden in the Jagged Peaks dedicated to the cataloguing, celebration, and promotion of chaos and capriciousness.
〜 And so it came to pass in the time before the Demiurges, in the time before Godville, when primal chaos reigned, that the youth Ardnassac of the Sacred Archipelago was chosen, sine causa, by an ur-God whose true name is lost to time. And forsooth, Ardnassac herself had many names. The village in which she was born to fisher and fisherwife, yet had no name. But the child, hazel-eyed and strong of limb, sharp of mind and tongue, was known far and wide as Ardnassac the Annoying Little Sh–t. The nature of Ardnassac was irrepressible.
And just as the eagle may only fly once her wings are grown, so too upon the turning of the seasons doth child become maiden. And yea, a fine ephebe, admired by many epheboi, and not a small number of ephegals either, mind you. Yet as is so often with those of atypical mind, the maiden Ardnassac, now called more flattering things, walked not quite in the world, but rather adjacent to it. Oblivious the attention of her cohort, the flattery merely the feeble flapping of a flock, the gifts presented shyly or boldly nothing but the baubles of jesters in her eyes.
And yet, they came. They came, bearing their flattery and gifts like entreaties to a coy kitten. Ardnassac the Fey cared naught, her bright smile focused never quite at the face, but disconcertingly at some point far behind, or possibly inside, or possibly both at once. And yet, they came. They came, bearing their flattery and gifts like bills of sale, scraps wagered in purchase of a single scrap of attention, an acknowledgement, a requitement. Ardnassac the Fey offered none, her ever-listening ears turning hither to catch music none others heard, thither to follow a thread of sound from someplace not present.
And yet, they came. They came, bearing their flattery and gifts like offerings to a spirit of tide and sail. For beauty is nothing but the beginning of terror, which we are all just able to endure, and we are so awed because it serenely disdains from annihilating us. And so they held themselves back, and swallowed the call-note of their dark sobbing.
And yet, they came. But amongst them now came a new kind. And this kind brought not flattery; not gifts; but questions. And like the first stones from the mountain, they heralded an avalanche of questions.
How many roads must a man walk down, before they call him a man, they asked.
How many seas must a white dove sail, before she sleeps in the sand, she answered.
War, uh, they asked now. What is it good for?
Tears to thousands of mothers eyes, she answered.
They asked: All the lonely people, where do they all come from?
She answered: All the lonely people, where do they all belong?They mumbled and nodded their recognition of wisdom. They muttered and sputtered their anger and exasperation. Ardnassac the Fathomless's words were rhubarbed and whispered from ear to ear through the crowds, through the villages, through the islands, through the Archipelagos. Throughout, Ardnassac the Far-Staring, Ardnassac the Uncanny, Ardnassac the Strange Beauty, the legends of her fame and wisdom spreading, remained uninterested in the attention, content to wander in the forests and valleys of the mind, hunting glittering thoughts. Young in limbs, in judgment old, the charming seeress grew in her power, and a nascent prophet she became.